Childproof
by Salem Merciolago
Summary: Sometimes it's just easier to kill the monsters inside of you than to love them. Rainbow Dash x Pinkie Pie/Pinkamena. Dark.


It was back to square one with her, again.

Rainbow Dash sucked up a lungful of the pink, strawberry flavoured smoke and held it, trying not to cough as she felt the drugs seep into her system. She blew it out in a scented cloud into Pinkie—oops, Pinkamena, her bad—Pinkamena's face. Pinkamena just stared at her blankly, and blinked before gesturing with her hoof for the hookah pipe.

This always happened.

It wasn't that Dash minded getting high with Pinkie, it was just the manner of things they used to get high with that grated on her nerves sometimes. This was one of those times.

They'd been doing this for…how long had it been, really? Two years? Three? More? Neither of them had good memories anymore (Pinkie Pie hadn't had a good one in the first place), so the days and weeks and months all just melted together like sugar cubes mixed with heroin on a spoon. This shisha and weed combination had been Pinkie Pie's first drug; the sugar and heroin mixture had been Dash's. Somehow, they'd come to some sort of strange relationship over it all-fucking and smoking and injecting and whatnot. At the end of the day, Dash went home to her house, Pinkie to hers, and they didn't talk about what had happened, simple as that. None of their other friends knew, and Dash was determined to keep it that way. Celestia only knows what kind of fuss they'd raise if they found out.

Most times, Pinkie Pie was extremely amusing high. Dash partly did it with her for the amusement, the other part for the company. She'd noticed a trend, though, with the drugs. Downers got Pinkie really down, and uppers…well, she let her try cocaine once, and vowed never to unleash that upon the world again. Therein laid the depressing part, however. Pinkamena wasn't fun to be around. She wasn't bubbly. She wasn't giggly.

She was deflated and dark and sad, and Dash hated it, while at the same time finding some sort of strange beauty in the reverted state of the mare.

At this moment, they were surrounded by Pinkamena's "real friends" (she never did know if that included her or not, but as seeing that Pinkamena didn't wail on her she figured that she was okay to stay), Madame LeFlour, Sir Lints-A-Lot, Rocky, and the turnip bucket Dash didn't care to remember the name of. Their party hats were looking a bit raggy and sad, just like the straight haired pony in the center of them, drawing on a translucent pink pipe.

Pinkamena glanced at her, her gaze hard, and Rainbow Dash looked away nervously, ruffling her wings. She felt at peace, but if Pink's gaze was anything to go off of, she wasn't going to be feeling like that for very much longer.

"Rocky says you keep staring at me like a fucking chump bitch," the pink pony said suddenly, and there was a few seconds' delay before Dash turned to glare at her. "His words, not mine."

"Well, tell Rocky…that he…fuck it, I don't have to tell him anything, dammit, he's not real," Rainbow Dash retorted, and Pinkamena huffed.

"Dash, you keep saying these things, I don't think you understand what you mean," she replied airily, and rolled the pipe back to the blue pony, who glowered at her. Her annoyance didn't last long as she took more drugs into her lungs, exhaling strawberry worries.

"Pink…why do you do this? Can't you get…I dunno, help or something?"

Pinkamena laid down, her dusty pink hair laying in swirled pools around her hooves. Her blue eyes glowed with a sense of withheld insanity in the dim light of the single lamp they had lit.

"Dashie, Dashie…why would I need help? As long as you love me, I'm perfect the way I am," she replied, only kind of making sense. She tilted her head to the left, "listening" to Madame LeFlour. Straightening, she stared at Dash. "You _do_ love me, right? Right, Dashie?"

Rainbow Dash took another drag for good measure, to calm her already calmed heart, and ruffled her wings again nervously.

"I didn't say that."

Pinkamena's eyes went glassy, and her mouth turned down at the corners. Dash could see tears beginning to build their way up into those clear blue eyes, and almost said something, but before she could, one of those pretty eyes twitched, the pupils went awry, and suddenly Pinkamena was smiling again.

"That's okaaay, Dashie, you don't gotta love me," she chirped, and Dash cringed, laying her muzzle on her front hooves and kicking the pipe over to Pinkamena dejectedly. It wasn't that she didn't love Pinkie. But that was the thing-she loved Pinkie Pie. Not Pinkamena. She heard Pinkamena get up and come over to her, and the blue mare closed her eyes tightly.

She felt the pink mare lay back down practically on top of her, warmer than usual but cold as ice, the breath of the insane tickling her ear and the scent of stale cotton candy wafting about her like fog.

"It really is okay this time, Dashie," the pink mare whispered, and Dash had to stop herself from jumping up and running. "Do you know why that is? Hm? Do you?"

Rainbow Dash didn't answer. Pinkamena growled softly.

"I asked you a fucking question, Rainbow Dash."

"No, Pink, I don't know why that is," the blue pony said quickly, the words tumbling over each other quickly. She felt Pinkamena snuggle in even closer into her side, and wished she'd chosen to do heroin tonight. At least that would've killed her ability to think straight completely.

"It's okay because in a little while, you won't have to deal with Pinkamena anymore," the pink mare continued softly, cheerfully, creepily. "Because Pinkie Pie will get rid of the nasty monsters. Don't you worry, Dashie. You won't have to love a monster anymore."

The warmth got up and clip-clopped back over to the other side of the hookah, and it was only then that Rainbow Dash dared to open her eyes. She squinted at Pinkamena, who was trying (unsuccessfully) to make her bucket of turnips smoke the hookah, and struggled to process what had been said.

"What do you mean by that, Pink?" She asked, and Pinkamena looked over at her, still jabbing the pink pipe at the turnips, and smiled lightly, clearly as unhinged as she was going to get for the night.

"I don't mean anything at all, Rainbow Dash. Anything at all…"

There was a few moments' silence, and Dash dared to sit up.

"Dashie, come over here," Pinkamena ordered suddenly, and Rainbow Dash took a few seconds to stand and slowly make her way over to the pink pony. Without warning, the pink mare kissed Dash, tasting like strawberry smoke and craziness and the taint of weed. Rainbow Dash melted into it, the forefront of her mind fizzling out, the back of her mind wondering if this should really continue.

Even if she didn't want it to continue, it did. Seconds melted into pink moments, and Dash was on her back on the hardwood floor of Pinkie's room with her wings crushed and cramped underneath her, with that crazy fucking pony all over her on top, her rosy mane creating a waterfall of a curtain around them, cutting them off from the rest of the world. It was all of a sudden too good to warrant fixing the awkward position, and even with the lag in her mind, Dash felt way too good for words. This, was Pinkie. This, was who she loved. This…

She swallowed another kiss from Pinkamena, and arched her back slightly as her breath hitched.

This was wrong.

This wasn't Pinkie.

This wasn't even sane.

But suddenly, it didn't matter anymore, and her mind was swimming and drowning and struggling as her breath spilled out in cotton candy puffs and circus whistles, clinging onto the only insane thing in the room, unable to think or feel anything except for the mass of straight _good_ that shook her body.

Pinkamena nuzzled her affectionately under her jaw, and bit a little too hard for pleasure before standing up, stretching, and allowing Dash to roll over and stretch out her pained wings. The pink mare gazed at Madame LeFlour for a moment, eyes flickering, and all of a sudden kicked out, sending the bag of flour halfway across the room and painting the floor with cocaine white. Dash stared at her blearily, feeling the aftereffects that were simply Pinkie.

"Don't think too hard about it, Dash. I don't mean anything by it, remember that," Pinkamena said softly, her voice full of heartache. "Just go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up, promise. Love you."

Rainbow Dash sighed heavily, and stretched out, blinking a few times before her eyes wouldn't open anymore.

"Love you too, Pink."

. . .

Sunlight woke her up before it was time, and Rainbow Dash yawned and stretched out her cramped up limbs, keeping her eyes closed against the penetrating light. Her front hooves hit something rather soft, and cold, and she paused, confused. She sat up and opened her eyes.

And froze.

Laying before her was…well, it was still Pinkie, and it was still Pinkamena, but it was neither while being both, and man, did her head hurt. Pinkie's hair had somewhat inflated, but it was half-assed and lifeless. Her coat and mane remained the dusty pinks of her insane personality, and her eyes were closed. Dash swallowed worriedly. That explained the soft, but not the cold.

She reached out and touched Pinkie's side gently, jerking her hoof back as she was met with icy flesh. It was nowhere near that cold in the room. It was fucking summer, for Celestia's sake. She took a small step forward, and choked back terror as she shook Pinkie's shoulder roughly.

"Pink…Pinkie…Pinkie Pie, wake up…" she croaked, her voice still rough with sleep and the sudden lump that arose as she began to rationalize the situation. "Fuck…Pinkie Pie, please, wake up, I'll love you, come on, wake up…please, wake up for me…"

Her vision blurred, and she thought for a moment that perhaps she was going crazy now, and that this was how Pinkamena's vision was, but as she felt hot droplets hit her hooves, she realized that it was only because she was crying.

She glanced around, sniffling, her tears coming faster as she saw the little childproof bottle of pills laying on its side next to the dead pink pony. Childproof. Childproof. The word repeated in her mind like some kind of sick mantra, forcing sob upon sob out of her body as she began to cry out loud.

. . .

It had to have been hours since when she first woke up and when Twilight found her. To her, it only took seconds to be pried away from the chilly body of her beloved. She was in hysterics as the medic ponies took Pinkie away in their red and white carriage. Applejack and Twilight almost weren't enough to hold her back as she screamed and writhed. Finally, they let her go, and she shot off into the sky, searching desperately for a place to be that didn't remind her of Pinkie Pie.

Childproof.

What sick logic.

She ended up back at her house, laying on her bed of clouds, tears still leaking haphazardly from ruby eyes, too tired to continue to move. She was like that when Fluttershy found her, with news about the funeral. Rainbow looked at the yellow pony, and sighed, shaking her head.

"I'll hold my own funeral here. I can't take watching them bury her," she whispered, and ignored the rest of whatever Fluttershy had to say.

Later that night, she made her way into Manehatten. Three streets down from Mane, two over, and five houses down from the horseshoes hung on the big oak. She had all of her savings, which was more than enough for what she needed. Powder looked at her with some skepticism, but she just paid him, took her cache, and left.

She bypassed her house and continued on to where Pinkie's room was. The window was unlatched, like always. The bed was messy and unmade, like always. But there was no Pinkie Pie like always. Now there was just darkness and loneliness and the remnants of a kicked flour bag with a French accent. Dash wrapped herself in Pinkie's sheets, surrounded by the wonderful scent of stale cotton candy. The taint of weed was still present from last night. Rainbow Dash absentmindedly noticed that the hookah had been removed from the room.

It took a few tries to set everything up, as she was focused on staying as surrounded by fading Pink as she possibly could, but eventually she got it all ready. With the sugar cubes swimming with liquid happiness, she tied her front leg tight, and jabbed all three needles into her veins. She pulled off the tie, and sank into the pink sheets, close to drooling already.

She blinked a few times, before her eyes wouldn't open anymore. In her head, she saw her beautiful Pinkie Pie, waiting for her on greener fields and bluer skies (but not bluer than her eyes) and beckoning her into more wonderful times. She sighed deeply, the liquid pleasure running through her veins cheap compared to Pink's, and didn't take another breath.

_Love you too, Pink._


End file.
